


Hello

by Khylara



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21799618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khylara/pseuds/Khylara
Summary: It's been over a year since their last conversation.
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	Hello

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Adele's "Hello". The lyrics are classic hiatus as seen by Pete.

Hello, it's me  
I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet  
To go over everything  
They say that time's supposed to heal ya  
But I ain't done much healing

Hello, can you hear me?  
I'm in California dreaming about who we used to be  
When we were younger and free  
I've forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet

There's such a difference between us  
And a million miles

"Hello" by Adele

Pete Wentz picked up the phone for the fifth time inside of an hour and scrolled thru his contact list, his finger hovering over one name in particular. "I wonder how he is," he thought, debating his next action. Finally, he sighed and clicked off his phone. It had been so long...

Too long? No...it could never be too long. Not for the two of them.

Resolute, Pete punched in Patrick's number and listened as the singer requested that he leave a message at the sound of the beep. Taking a breath, he began, all the while praying that he'd finish before his nerve gave out. 

"Hey, Lunchbox. It's Pete. I know it's been awhile since we talked and everything. I just wanted to see how you were. I thought maybe - I'm in LA now - maybe we could meet up somewhere and talk. I think we really need to." He swallowed hard and pressed on. "Anyway, just...when you get this, call me back. Please."

Clicking off the phone, Pete shoved it into his back pocket and went over to the fireplace mantle, immediately picking up the one photo displayed there. He brushed a finger along the edge of the silver gilt frame, smiling at the image it surrounded. It was of him and Patrick, standing arm in arm as they grinned for the camera.

"So long ago," Pete mused as he tried to recall the photo's time and place. Finally, it came to him. "That industry party with the dueling divas and the fortune teller, God, that was a night to remember." He remembered the look Patrick had worn that night - careworn and a little sad - and asking him about it when they were finally alone. Patrick had just smiled and denied everything before changing the subject almost immediately.

"Were things bad even then?" Pete wondered. "You weren't taking to anyone then. What happened? Was it just the album not doing well? Or was it something else?" Pete didn't know and there had been no one to ask.

"Least of all you," Pete put the photo aside as he continued to wonder about his band mate, his best friend. Was he okay? Was he sitting in his living room playing around on his computer, coming up with song after song? Or was he staring out the window wondering if the rain was as cold as it looked?

"Please be okay," Pete prayed, sending a look heavenward. "Please. I don't know what I would do if you weren't." He suddenly shuddered. He knew. He knew all too well.

Giving up the thought of doing anything productive for the remainder of the night, Pete stood up, about to go upstairs when there was a knock on the door. "I wonder who that could be this late," he mused as he walked toward the front door. Opening it, he was about to ask whoever it was what he wanted when he stopped cold. "Patrick...hi."

"Hey," Patrick said, smiling a little. He was dressed comfortably in worn jeans and his John Coultraine shirt, every thread tucked in and every hair in place. To Pete's eyes, he was nothing short of breathtaking.

"Come on in," Pete finally said, stepping aside. He gestured toward the overstuffed couch. "Have a seat. Did you want anything? I just made coffee. Or there's tea."

Patrick shook his head. "No, I'm good." He suddenly looked down at his shoes. "You said we needed to talk?"

Pete nodded as he shut the door and followed Patrick into the living room. He sat down next to him. "Yeah, we do," he finally said, looking for a way to begin. He decided in the end to be blunt. "It's just...the way I left things..."

Patrick stopped him with a shake of his head. "You don't need to apologize."

"Yes, I do. I was an unmedicated, obnoxious ass then. To everybody. Not just you."

"And I wasn't any better at the end of things. We were lucky we weren't strangling each other by the time it was all over." Patrick suddenly turned away. "All the things I said to you, then...I didn't mean them."

"Didn't you?" was the soft reply. Waving away Patrick's apology, he continued. "You never said anything you didn't mean. At least, not back then. It was the one thing I counted on from you. And what you said...I know you meant every word. and I needed to hear them." He paused. "God knows I wasn't listening to anyone else back then."

"But you didn't needed to hear it like that," Patrick protested.

"Yes, I did. Because it wouldn't have sunk in any other way. I was that far gone." There was a pause. "Every word you said...every name you called me, I deserved it. All of it."

"Pete...no..."

"Pete, yes. And it's okay." his smile turned understanding. "I understand a little bit better where you were coming from back then. I had to." He looked Patrick over, admiring what he saw. "By the way...you look good."

Patrick couldn't help preening a little. "Thank my dietician and the fact that I've only been opening my mouth to sing." He did the same. "You look good, too. How have you been feeling?"

Pete suddenly looked proud. "My therapist has been playing with my meds for the past few months. Think she finally found the right cocktail to keep me even. No manic highs. No bottomless pit lows. It's been good."

"That's wonderful," Patrick said, sounding relieved. 

"Yeah, it is." He paused. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too. So much, It's been hard not having you around to connect with." Patrick paused, looking thoughtful. "You know what I missed most? Just talking to you." He shook his head. "Days were fine. I could stay busy most days. But the nights..."

Pete understood. It was the nights that were the longest and the worst when you only had your thoughts to keep you company. He put a hand on Patrick's sweatered shoulder. "Yeah...I know." 

They were silent for a long moment. "So...your folks?"

"Everyone's good. Mom's still asking me when I'm gonna give up and give her grandchildren, but other than that, nothing's changed. You know how they are." Patrick looked over at him. "And yours?"

"All good. Dad's thinking about retiring at the end of the year and Mom redid the kitchen. I'm not sure why. She hasn't cooked since 2006." He shrugged and continued. "But you know how she is. Everything has to be in it's place." He paused. "And things are going okay for you? Really?"

"Really. And as okay as things can go, considering." Patrick paused, swallowing hard. "I really did miss you, you know."

"I know. I missed all of you. Joe and Andy, too." He paused. "Speaking of...have you heard from them? I haven't. Not since..." He didn't finish.

"Our last fight," Patrick finished for him. "I did talk to Hurley. He said point blank that they both wanted us to get our shit together before we got into one room to hash everything out." He shrugged. "We just have to decide when that is."

"Fair enough." Pete looked at him. "Is that...is that something you want?"

Patrick blinked. "Why wouldn't I?"

Pete shrugged and looked away. "You've gone solo. Some things change."

Patrick snorted. "Not that much. You were right when you said I needed my band."

"I didn't want to be right about that," Pete said softly. "When I first heard it on the radio...I was so damn proud of you."

"I did it for you," Patrick admitted at last. "Every song...they were all for you."

They sat together in silence for a long moment before Pete asked quietly, "So what happens now?"

Patrick shrugged. "I don't know. What do you want to happen?"

Pete shrugged as well "I don't know. All i do know is...I want it back. You...the guys...even that stupid van we used to ride around in. Maybe not like it was back in the day when we were young before everything went to hell...but something."

Their eyes met and Patrick suddenly smiled. "So do I." He swallowed hard. "Pete...everything I've done...I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too, Pattycakes. For everything." To seal the apology, Pete leaned over and pressed his lips against Patrick's.

He didn't expect to be kissed back.

After a moment, Pete broke away, his dark eyes wide. "Patrick...baby...are you sure?"

For an answer, Patrick took the bassist's hand in his and twined their fingers together. "Never been surer about anything," he said, his heart behind his words. "If you are."

"God, Patrick...that's the last thing you have to ask." He pulled the other man into his arms. "I love you, man. You've got to know...I've always loved you. Ever since the day we met."

"So have I. From the first moment." They came together in another kiss.

Drawing away, Pete nuzzled the redhead's ear, breathing in the scent of jasmine shampoo, cologne and something undeniably Patrick. It was enough to make his head spin. "I remember that day." He suddenly giggled. "You were such a dork."

"You weren't much better Mr god's gift to Chicago's punk scene," Patrick replied tartly. "I was so scared I'd do something to offend you and you'd walk away. So afraid you'd tell me to go to hell for being a poser."

"Never. Not in a million years. You knew more about music than any of us. And you proved it when we finally got you to sing. That golden voice...I loved it even then. I just wanted a chance to prove it to you." Pete suddenly looked hopeful. "Let me?"

Patrick squeezed his fingers. "I'll follow you wherever you go," he promised, sealing the words with a kiss. "Just lead the way."


End file.
